Moments in Time
by KaiahAurora
Summary: The Lord of the Rings movies, as seen by Aragorn and Legolas. There was much more to the story than meets the eye, and not all of it was good. Non-slash, but heavy bromance, and lots of angsty angst. Some fluff and a bit of humour. Rated for angst and violence.


Here it is, my pretties! The start of the LotR movies as described by Aragorn and Legolas! More chapters up soon, as well as a few more on Brothers' Hurt. Also, check out my new Tumblr, kaiahaurora, and my blog, fine-butnotmine, which is an educational and helping blog for kids, teens, and young adults who are having trouble being accepted by their families, friends, and society in general. It deals with mental health, sexual orientation, gender identity, and a bunch of other stuff, so check it out!

Description: This is a depiction of Aragorn and Legolas' journeys throughout the Lord of the Rings series. It sticks only to what is described in the movies, and so will leave out a lot of vital information from the books. I will also be describing people and places as they appear in the films, so get over it. Don't worry, a Tolkien book version of this fanfic will appear as soon as I'm done with PJ's movies. Also note that any references to the Hobbit in this one will be based off the movies, as well as "The Hunt for Gollum", the fan-made video.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my own imagination.

Warnings: this does get pretty dark, and eludes to or even depicts self-harm, depression, graphic violence, and a whole lot of angst, including in this first chapter

Length: this chapter - 2,334

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Aragorn sat in the Prancing Pony, smoking his pipe and generally not enjoying himself. Men were disgusting. Everyone was drinking and slobbering and belching and generally being distasteful. The fact that he also happened to be a man was completely irrelevant. The fact that his brothers gave him endless amount of grief for being dirty all the time was also not of importance. Even with the influence of living for years with the rangers, Aragorn was raised by elves, and the blood of the Dúnedain ran through his veins. He was not- Oh, valar, someone just threw up beside him. Healers were used to vomit. Aragorn was a healer. Therefore, vomit was absolutely disgusting and horrible, especially when it consisted entirely of ale.

If Gandalf had not practically begged him to show up and save middle earth, he would have left the moment he arrived. Bree was a nice place, but its people were not. The sooner he left with the hobbits, the better.

The folk in the pub gave him strange looks. The rangers had a bad reputation around these parts, and as he had given the name Strider, he had been treated with more mistrust that usual. Having chosen a spot in the corner, Aragorn was able to keep an eye on the goings on in the pub, while being out of the way. His hood was drawn and his pipe was lit, something that he was unable to do when around his family - not that it mattered. They weren't his family any longer, not if his father had any say in the matter.

And that's when the hobbits walked in, pulling Aragorn from his thoughts and reminding him of the job to be done. He had been told to expect two of them, but for some reason they had multiplied, and they looked frightened. For a moment, he watched them, making sure that they were in fact the hobbits he'd been sent to retrieve. They ordered drinks and glanced around nervously, clearly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, he may have been slightly less than subtle, as one of the Halflings pointed him out to another, and then Butterbur told them something about him, and they became suspicious. This was going well.

A few of the men around the bar started glancing at one of the hobbits, the one that Aragorn assumed to be Frodo, based off Gandalf's description. It took him only a moment to guess that the Ring was calling to him. Oh, yes, this was going well, indeed. He'd flaunt the Ring and then put it on and Aragorn would have to deal with both the _Nazgûl _and a bar fight. Suddenly, he almost wished that he hadn't come alone. This entire scenario would be so much simpler if he had one of his brothers or a ranger to help him, but no, Aragorn, son of Arathorn was a moron.

"Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins! He's over there - Frodo Baggins..."

Well, that cleared that up, at least. As Frodo started to move through the crowd towards his friend at the bar, Aragorn lowered his pipe, watching carefully. Things had the potential to go very bad very quickly, and he wanted to be able to stop that if at all possible. Of course, the Ring flying into the air was not exactly something he'd wanted to see. Straightening, Aragorn could barely see the young hobbit disappear. Oh, wonderful.

The hobbit appeared just as Aragorn reached him, and after a quick glance around, he grabbed the Halfling and pinned him against the wall.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill," he hissed, and he couldn't help it if he sounded just the tiniest bit terrifying.

The entire situation was very, very bad, and they needed to get out of there, as soon as possible. Except, not, because the Nazgûl would run them down within hours. A plan, then. Something clever and deceitful. Luckily, Aragorn had had many chances to practice in that particular area, thanks to twin brothers and a slightly narcissistic friend. He'd think of something.

He strode across the room, pushing the hobbit ahead of him and up the stairs.

"What do you want?"

Not to have to fight off the nine black riders, but so much for that. "A little more caution from you; that is no trinket you carry."

"I carry nothing."

Honestly? "Indeed." Sarcasm was his best defence at this point. "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely? That is a rare gift."

Okay, perhaps the dramatic hood-reveal was a bit theatrical, but he needed the Halfling to understand the gravity of the situation. It was entirely possible that they were in for a fight, and it was not just their lives at stake.

"Who are you?"

"Are you frightened?"

"Yes."

Well, good. "Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you."

He glanced towards the door, his instincts telling him that something bad was coming. The hobbit looked frightened, and he thought that perhaps he was starting to understand. At the sound of running feet, Aragorn took up a defensive position and drew his sword, ready for a fierce fight. Of course, three half-sized people brandishing a candelabra and a stool weren't exactly life-threatening.

The front-most hobbit had called him Longshanks, though. That was unexpected. Had he used that name here before? He honestly could not remember. Probably should stick to one name per place, though, or people would get suspicious. More suspicious, that was.

"You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you."

Oh, good, and now they thought that he was going to kill them. Perhaps he did need to work on his "personable" skills, as some had not-so-subtly suggested in the past. He couldn't have them running off and getting themselves killed before they got to Imladris. Time to change tactics.

"You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."

XXX

Aragorn heard the gate being broken down, and the wraiths that rode through the streets. They came into view - four of them, dressed in black robes. He was no elf, but Aragorn could practically smell the evil coming from them all the same. Watching from the window across the street, he saw them enter the Prancing Pony, saw them as they got into the room and took position. Their swords hitting the pillows woke one of the hobbits, Sam. Their shrieks woke the other two, and probably the rest of Bree.

The hobbits were looking at him, and sooner or later one of them would ask.

"What are they?"

Frodo looked frightened, and rightly so. These were dangerous creatures. He didn't want the hobbits to underestimate the situation, but he also wanted them to trust him to be able to help them. He would get them to Imladris safely; he had made a promise. Shuffling slightly, Aragorn hoped that none of them had realized that he was clutching his sword like a security blanket.

"They were once men, great kings of men. Then, Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling to darkness. Now, they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgûl - Ring wraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."

As he spoke, Aragorn kept glancing at the window, making sure that their hurried plan had worked and that the wraiths were leaving. That wasn't the only reason why he continually tore his attention from the rapt attention of the hobbits, though. He was descended from Isildur, another king of the past who had fallen to the draw of the Ring. If his ancestors hadn't been able to fight its call, how could he? For not the first time, Aragorn felt a shiver of fear crawl up his spine. He had sworn to protect these hobbits, but what if he, himself, became a threat?

XXX

They left with the sunrise, making up for the time that was lost with the wraiths' invasion. Slowing his pace to accommodate for the hobbits' size, Aragorn still worried that he was pushing them too far. He had the old blood of elves in his veins, and he had been dragged along by hyperactive brothers through most of his early life - he knew how to run for days on end. The Halflings, though, they were weary even after their short trip to Bree, and they still did not trust him.

"Where are you taking us?" Sam asked, always by Frodo's side, as though protecting him from Aragorn.

"Into the wild.

As much as he worried for the pace he had set, it was not enough to slow him down. They carried the most dangerous possession in Endor, possibly all of Arda, and without the protection of the elves they were completely exposed. The sooner they got to Imladris, the safer they would be.

They made it out of Bree, and Aragorn had led them deep into Chetwood before he heard the hobbits whispering amongst themselves.

"How do we know this 'Strider' is a friend of Gandalf's?"

Well, he did have a point.

"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer... feel fowler."

That was it. Aragorn was having a bath when he got back to Rivendell - not that he would have much of a choice, if his father had any say in the matter. It was not his fault if he hadn't had time to clean himself in the past...year, but that was no one's business but his and his annoyingly clean brothers'.

"He's fowl enough."

Fine, fine, he'd bathe. He could take a suggestion, occasionally.

"We have no choice but to trust him."

He could practically feel the mistrust radiating from Merry, but the other three were accepting enough.

"But where's he leading us?"

Smiling to himself, Aragorn told them their destination. If he was putting his life on the line, he might as well let them know that he could hear them. His smile faded as he mentioned that it was the House of Elrond. He wasn't looking forward to that particular part of the journey.

At least one of the hobbits was excited to meet the elves, and that was no surprise. If it were possible, Aragorn would change into one of the fair folk in a heartbeat. Having grown up around them, he'd always felt inadequate, annoyingly perfect as they were. Hopefully the hobbits would be able to appreciate their stay, even if it was for a dangerous cause.

Of course it started raining, and Aragorn was constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure that none of the hobbits had fallen too far behind. There was snow on the ground, and it was cold. Drawn into his own thoughts of what awaited him at home, Aragorn missed the lack of footsteps until he heard the kitchenware banging. That wasn't right.

He turned to see the hobbits well on their way to cooking something. What by the Valar were they doing? Did they not know that they were in the most danger that they had ever been in? But when he informed them, gently enough, that they wouldn't be stopping for a good long while, they said that it was breakfast. A look of confusion crossed his face. Hobbits were certainly strange creatures.

Pippin went on to explain that a second breakfast was required. Aragorn gave him a look and continued walking. He hadn't signed up for this. After a moment, though, he felt bad. From the little he knew of Halflings, it was obvious that they were unused to life in the wild. It was possible that many days hunting with his brothers coupled with the life of a ranger had removed him from the regular ways of travel. Sighing, he grabbed a few apples from his bags and tossed them back. Now, at least it could be said that he'd made the effort not to let them starve.

They emerged into Midgewater, and Aragorn was quickly reminded why he hated nature. They were all soaked, frozen, covered in marsh waters, and bombarded with bloodthirsty insects. As darkness fell and they were still not halfway through the marsh, Aragorn accepted that they would have to make camp for the night. After searching for a good long while to find a bit of solid ground, he left the hobbits to make their supper while he hunted for some game. It didn't take him long to find and bring down a stag, and the relief in the hobbits' eyes at having something hot to eat was reward enough in itself.

After eating, the hobbits were obviously exhausted, and Aragorn told them to get some rest. He was used to nights of no sleep, and he wouldn't chance being caught unawares. With a pipe in hand and his cloak wrapped tightly around him, Aragorn sang a soft tune that his father had taught him, many years ago. Frodo's voice startled him, and he almost felt embarrassed - not so much for his lack of awareness, though that was a bit concerning, but more as though he had been caught in a private moment. It was just that the song, all about an elf-maiden's love and consequent death for a mortal man, was so relevant at the moment. He had given up on his dream of Arwen long ago, but the memory still pained him. The fact that his father, or rather, her father, had shown him what a bad idea it was didn't help. Soon, he would be facing Elrond again, for the first time since announcing his love for his adoptive sister to his family.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he told Frodo to get some rest. They had a long journey ahead of them.

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Well, there you have it! Chapters for this will be different lengths, as I try to find natural breaks in the movie. The next one will be uploaded hopefully within a week, and will probably be much longer. Feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy. See you soon!


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